


Law & Order: Mandalore

by supergreak



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Aftermath of Violence, Alternate Universe - Detectives, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Death Happening Off-Screen, Gen, Jango Fett's Parents Live, Jaster Mereel Lives, Journeyman Protectors, Made Up Legal Procedures, Mandalorian Culture, Police Procedural, Pre-Slash, too much dialogue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-30
Updated: 2020-08-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 01:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,560
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26188810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/supergreak/pseuds/supergreak
Summary: In the Mandalorian justice system, the people are represented by two separate yet equally important groups: The journeyman protectors, who investigate crime, and the sector attorneys, who prosecute the offenders. These are their stories.
Comments: 5
Kudos: 63





	Law & Order: Mandalore

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Except When I'm With You](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25877974) by [Kutaisi](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kutaisi/pseuds/Kutaisi). 



> Inspired by the end note, and my comment thread, on Except When I'm With You.
> 
> Canon is an ocean, and I've been fishing. For plot reasons, there was a successful reformer Mand’alor some centuries before Jaster Mereel. This changed some things, and some things never change.
> 
> Full warnings and spoiler-y explanations at the end.  
> This is not a serious fic. Unbeta'd. Thanks to the Integration AU server for letting me bounce ideas around! Y'all are amazing.

The wind howled through the trees of the park, adding an overtone of horror to the sounds of wildlife and distant traffic as a girl sprinted down the dirt path, glancing over her shoulder every few seconds. She was an adolescent devaronian, red skin appearing pale pink in the moonlight except for the cut bleeding on her right arm. Her loose athletic shoes slapped loudly on the tightly-packed earth, and one was coming untied. She ducked under a low-hanging branch at the bend in the path, and slammed right into an armored chest.

  
Gentle hands grasped her shoulders, and she looked up to see the markings of a Journeyman Protector. “What’s wrong, ad’ika?” They asked, voice low.

“Oh, thank the stars. He’s chasing me, the bad man is right after me, you have to stop him!” She babbled.

The Journeyman tilted his helmet down to look at her. “What happened?”

“He killed them, the aruetii killed my parents!”

Jango escorted the distraught ‘ad back up the trail of the public park, towards where Davin was taking a smoke break at their hover cruiser. He switched to comms to give him a head’s up. “Heads up, Sarge, we’ve got an 11-44, reporting party is a minor citizen, at least two possible fatalities and one 10-32 in the park.”

“My partner’s calling for backup, and someone to take care of your buïre. I’m going to get you to safety, okay? We’ll make it. Oya?”

She let out a weak “Oya” as they made it safely to the road. He could already see the baar'ur pulling up, a cruiser behind them. Five armored Protectors piled out of the car.

“Bacara!” He called one of the fresh arrivals. The rookie was taciturn, but good with adike. Jango ducked to be at the girl’s level. “Bacara is going to stay with you and keep you safe, ad. The baar’üre will get you patched up in no time. Suvarir?”

“Elek.” She ducked out from under Bacara’s attempt at a comforting hand, and walked herself to the medic’s van. Jango watched her arrive before turning to the other officers and detectives.

“We have an armed combatant, who has killed at least two civilians. Humanoid, male, pale skin, possible geometric tattoo on left hand, dressed in spacer’s attire with a hooded jacket. Weapons include at least two blasters, a knife, and possible powers outside of human norm. The adiik didn’t know if she was imagining things in the dark, but thought the attacker moved faster than should be possible. Oya!”

The others - Sergeant Davin and four regular officers, cheered back “OYA!”

____________________________________________  
_The next morning_  
Chief Mereel breathed in the brightly-scented steam of his shig, knowing that it was too hot to even sip. That was the kind of mouthburn he didn’t need.

Davin knocked on his doorframe. “Hey, ‘alor.”

Mereel gestured to the visitor chair. “Sergeant. Me'vaar ti gar?” He asked for a status update.

Davin took the seat, and handed him a datapad, case file open on the screen. “Double fatality last night in City Park. One witness, juvenile, got some real _mandokarla_ \- she fought off her parent’s attacker long enough to run away and find a Protector. Fett called in backup and got her to safety, but the perp was in the wind by the time we got back there.”

Chief Mereel grimaced. “Nasty business. Any leads?”

The sergeant shrugged with an armored shoulder. “The witness called him an aruetti, which is typically not a useful description, especially not for a cloaked humanoid. However, she recognized his accent as Mid-Rim, probably Nubian. The kid said something about the same as her favorite fashion show? And - “

The comm buzzed. “‘Alor, there’s a Jedi here to see you, sounds important.”

Mereel pressed the button. “Send them back.” He looked to Sergeant Davin. “Hold that thought.

The Jedi was young, human, with short red hair and a long, thin braid trailing over his shoulder. A student Jetiise, then, but one who was almost done training. “Chief Mereel?” He hovered at the door frame like a child, Coruscanti consonants crisp. “I’m Obi-Wan Kenobi.”  
He waved the kid in. “What can I help the Jedi with?” Polite face, dealing-with-politicians-voice, stop laughing at me Davin.

The kid went from hanging awkwardly in the doorway to standing awkwardly in front of the desk, until Cort, bless his vambraces, pushed the extra chair right behind him. The Jedi sat on the edge, hands tucked into his sleeves like in the cheesy holoflics about Jedi. “I’m here investigating a criminal, Chief, a force-sensitive assassin who has killed three politicians on two different planets so far. I am here to request your cooperation, on behalf of my Master and the Republic Judicial Forces.”

Mereel looked at the kid and raised an eyebrow. He scrolled to the witness sketch and spun the datapad around. “This your perp?”

Kenobi looked up in shock. “How did you…?”

“He killed two of our own citizens last night. There’s a witness, who kindly sketched his face to the best of her ability.”

Kenobi exhaled sharply and sat back in his chair. “That’s...unfortunate.” He looked overwhelmed.

“Where’s your boss, kid?”

“He’s following a lead on Concordia. I had a vi- a feeling, that we were needed here; he disagreed. So I took a public transport and arrived on Concord Dawn about ten minutes ago. I’m sorry, I’m not typically so…”

Mereel cut him off. “No problem, Kenobi. Now, this is officially our jurisdiction, because our citizens have died. But in the interests of cooperation, I will, of course, allow you to interview the witness, and accompany my officers in their investigations.”

Kenobi nodded. “That seems...fair. Thank you, chief.”

Davin stood up, grabbing his datafile. “Kenobi, I’m Sergeant Cort Davin. My partner and I are running this investigation. I’ll take you to the witness. She’s in a safehouse for now.”

____________________________________________  
Jango Fett got Davin’s comm about a Jedi butting in on their investigation. He checked the cameras for the property line, seeing Davin’s cruiser pulling up to the safehouse.

The safehouse was really just his Dad’s house, but the vhett was far enough from the city to have good sightlines, and the security was good.

Currently, the Devaronian teen was peeling tubers while talking Dad’s ear off. “Botany is absolutely my favorite class, but math is fun, too. I saw you were growing red gourds in the western field - what’s your crop rotation like, sir?”

Clearly, she knew how to speak to Dad on his own level. Jango waved at his father before stepping outside to meet Cort and the jettise.

“Me'vaar ti gar?” Jango asked Davin for a sitrep as he looked the Jedi up and down. A little scrawny, but his arms were decently muscled. Those baggy robes were doing nothing to protect him, and he looked like he hadn’t slept in a few days. On the way back up, the Jedi caught his eye and quirked a grin; he’d absolutely been caught.

Cort filled the awkward silence, giving the other two a status update. “And Kenobi here says he may be able to help track the suspect, once we get closer.”

Kenobi shrugged. “Depends on if he’s bothering to shield. If he doesn’t know there’s a Jedi on-planet - and he shouldn’t - then he might not bother.”

Jango rolled his eyes, glad for the buy’ce that hid his eyes. Kriffing Jedi mumbo-jumbo.

His comm buzzed. “Fett, Davin, do you read?”

“This is Fett. Me'bana?”

“It’s Bo. Me and Bacara are on the university route; we spotted someone who looks like your guy. Should we pursue?”

“Negative, Kryze. We’ll be there in 20. Stay sharp.”

____________________________________________  
They arrived at the local college, mostly vacant for the weekend. The pair of rookies, forever stuck on boring shifts, were amped up with hopes of seeing some action.

Bacara pointed to the library building. “In there. Probably trying to use the databases.”

Bo-Katan shrugged. “Or just hide, or rest. I got some great naps in those stacks when I was still in school.”

Cort nodded. “Good work, you two. Now, keep watch on the front doors, and let me know if he comes. We’re going to go in through the back.”

The trio made a wide loop through campus, avoiding areas with sightlines to the library windows. Then, they cut through the Languages building, down a set of stairs, and through a very dusty hallway. The Sergeant had more than a few memories of cutting through this hallway to get to class when he was in the academy. He paused outside the final door, making sure he was speaking on external speakers so Kenobi could hear. If they ever collaborated again, he was getting the kid an earpiece.

“This leads to the stacks. It’s a labyrinth. He’s likely hiding here, and we can clear these areas without setting off alarm bells. Fett, take point. Search-and-clear, but quietly. Kenobi, you go next - give us some kind of sign if you’re getting a spooky feeling. I’ll take up the rear. We want this guy alive for the juries; they haven’t had a good snack for a while. Got it?”

Jango nodded, bumped his vambrance into Davin’s. “Oya.”

There was a student studying at the central table on the first level; she rolled her eyes at them and went back to sketching molecule shapes. On the second floor, a student was sleeping in a study carrel, fully armored, helmet typing an endless string of aureks on their screen. Cort gently shook them awake, telling them the time, and day, and what was happening. They frantically started squeezing books and datapads into their satchel.

Back in the stairwell, Kenobi raised a hand to stop them.

He gestured them back into the sound insulated study nook. “The steps on the right-hand side feel wrong - they could be trapped, or just squeaky. Also, I can feel the darksider’s presence.”

The two Journeyman Protectors nodded in acknowledgement, then carefully made their way up the left side of the steps. At first glance, Cort thought the Jedi was mistaken - the suspect was nowhere in sight. Then, Fett pointed to the edge of a cloak, peeking out from under a study carell.

Cort looked to the Jedi. At Kenobi’s nod, he fired a stun bolt at the lump. Kenobi neatly lifted the semi-conscious lump out from under the table, while Jango pulled out restrictor cuffs and a suppression patch. They weren’t taking any escape chances with this guy.

Once the suspect was restrained, they made their way back down the stairs. Kenobi kept the perp hovering in mid-air, which was definitely convenient. Jango went ahead to open doors and clear civilians while Sergeant Davin commed Dispatch, the rookies, and campus security to let them know what was going on. Still, he didn’t breathe easily until the suspect was secured all the way in a cell at JP HQ.

The prisoner’s feet were secured to the chair, which was, in turn, welded to the floor. His hands were secured to the table, and there was a force-suppression drug patch on his neck. Nevertheless, he’d been arrested and secured without a bruise, due to luck and timing. The stun bolt was wearing off, and Jango Fett watched the pale human blink his way to alertness from across the interrogation table. He wore his uniform, not armor, which established authority for interviews and prevented suspects from gaining access to the built-in weapons. His partner and the visiting Jedi both waited on the other side of the glass.

He started speaking as soon as the perp squinted at him. “Republic Citizen, you have committed crimes against the people of Mandalore. Under Mandalorian law, you have the right to remain silent. You have a right to a speedy trial by jury. You have a right to representation in a court of law. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be provided for you. Do you understand your rights?”

The criminal nodded. “I need to contact my lawyer. I do not choose to answer any questions at this time.”

Fett shrugged. He was expecting that, and the human didn’t seem to have any accomplices on-planet, from the evidence they collected. “Comm code?” He pulled the manual dial for the hypercomm system towards him.

“684135484681699”

The voice-only comm actually rang, then softly beeped through multiple redirects. That was found in high-end burner comms, using auto-forwarding to redirect signals and make them harder to track.

“Account Services.” The droid on the other end had a smooth, modulated voice typical of luxury personal assistant models, more than a more standard protocol droid. “Account number?”

The prisoner leaned closer to the microphone pick-up. “Account five-three-one-Sen-Penth. Request legal representation, Concord Dawn in the Mandalorian Sector.”

The droid responded. “Your representative will be in contact with you shortly.” The call ended abruptly.

Fett leaned back in his seat. That was indicative of a very well-prepared assassin, or a political operative. The patterns of the killings off-world did not indicate a political operative, though. A bounty hunter would have mentioned the guild by now, and this guy’s behavior wasn’t typical of a beroya. However, the prisoner might not know that the Jedi had followed him and helped them connect the dots. Best to play ignorant, here.

“Well, I know you said you weren’t going to answer questions, but I’ve got the room for another hour before my partner will be back to escort you back, so if it’s okay, I’m just going to fill out your file.” He made a show out of flipping through his datapad. “Okay, name?”

Silence, and a glare.

“Prisoner 6024, then. Pronouns? Unless you want me to make assumptions?”

The glare turned suspicious. “...He/him. Obviously.”

Jango laughed. “Prisoner, gender is rarely obvious in a society where people wear full armor to the farmer’s market. You must be from a core world, with an attitude like that. Okay, any species-specific dietary concerns? You will be in custody for at least a week, to allow the lawyers time to get together. We don’t want to kill you by accident.” He smiled widely. His sister called it his shark-smile.

The prisoner was getting impatient. “You must be impaired, to keep asking such inane questions. Baseline human.”

Okay, some major attitudes about gender and species. Maybe he was one of those humanity-first coreworlders? Those cults sometimes got uppity enough to forward legislation, but normally weren’t the assassin-hiring kind.

“Don’t suppose you feel like disclosing, hmmm, planet of origin, reason for visiting the Mandalore sector, or your justifications for killing two citizens?”

The human gritted out. “Law-yer.”

Jango stacked up his datapads, which were mostly for show. “Very well, then. Someone will be by shortly to escort you to your cell, where you will receive a meal.”

In the hall, Kenobi looked at him quizzically. “Why were you asking him basic questions? I gave you his file from Judicial, right?”

Jango nodded. “Yes, but he doesn’t know that. Our Sector Attorney will appreciate any details, personality profiles, or leads we get from him thinking that we’re a bunch of provincial idiots.” He passed the Jedi his datapad of notes.

Kenobi flashed a beautiful smile.

Jango pivoted to walk down the hallway. _Shavit, I miss my helmet._

____________________________________________  
The judge looked over the courtroom, gesturing for the two attorneys to approach the bench. “Did the offworlder decline a representative from their home planet?” She asked, fixing the Sector Attorney with a firm look. Failure to follow procedures could get the case throw out on appeal.

SA Kryze shook her head, tucking a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. “No, ma’am. The planetary government disavowed him. Exhibit Grek.” At the judge’s beckon, she displayed the hologram.

A tiny holo appeared on the bench, displaying a human in heavy makeup and formalwear. “Your honor, I am Ambassador Letua of the Naboo. We received your request regarding the one you label as Prisoner 6024. However, this prisoner has already been tried and convicted for high crimes against the people and state of Naboo, including, but not limited to, treason and multiple counts of murder of the highest order. For the harm he has done, we proclaim that Prisoner 6024 shall no longer be a citizen of Naboo; he is nameless, houseless, kinless. May he never set foot on his native soil again, or the seas themselves shall reach up to bar further transgression. Thus, we withdraw all interest in these criminal proceedings. We apologize for any inconvenience this causes you.” The holo bowed briefly before winking out.

SA Kryze took the holodisc back. “There was a complete datafile attached, but the State will not be pressing charges for anything that happened in Nubian space, to prevent double Jeopardy.”

“I see.” The judge nodded, then looked at the opposing attorney. “Does your client have other memberships which may supersede local authority in this case?”

The lawyer hesitated, then shook their head. The neimoidian was dressed in simple, if quality clothes and a beret the color of muja fruit. “Just his Republic citizenship, and Republic policy is to cede to local authority. Saves them on court costs. I won’t be requesting extradition.”

“Very well, we can proceed from here.”  
____________________________________________

Adith Drankim was having a very bad week. She was one of several criminal attorneys employed by Damask Holdings, and got assigned this case because her boss didn’t like her. Probably. She couldn’t even figure out why they were defending the asshole. He was a sexist, speciesist jerk who dismissed her capabilities as soon as she walked into the police station. He refused to take any of her suggestions, share information that could help him, or cooperate at all. Regardless, she would do her best to represent him fairly. She stood to her feet, straightening her jacket.

“Gentlebeings of the jury, my client is but a weary traveller, who was taking a perfectly-legal nap in a public library when he was arrested on the hunch of an offworlder Jedi. As I will explain shortly, this is a case of mistaken identity, and the sooner we get this sorted out, the faster our hardworking Journeyman Protectors can catch the real criminal.”

It was _not_ a case of mistaken identity, and everyone knew it. While the arrest was made with the assistance of the Jedi investigator, that was apparently valid under local law, because the commissioned officers were the ones to do the actual subduing-and-arresting. Furthermore, the Jedi came with a mountain of files from other planets, showing her clients’ fingerprints and DNA at the scenes of more than ten murders in five systems.

The local cops - Journeyman Protectors, wasn’t that a mouthful - were no less diligent. They had a credible eyewitness. They had recovered footage from the helmet of the female victim, and trace evidence of hair left behind.

She did her best to mitigate the damage with the jury, but there was no way her client was innocent. She managed to get most of the offworld crimes thrown out, due to the evidence being on other planets, or not having a formal chain of custody. She got the Jedi to agree to not mention any force “sense” of “darkness”, only the verifiable crimes committed.

She found a local law - which the Republic really ought to implement - which barred self-incrimination. She used that clause to prevent her client from taking the stand, knowing that his personality would do more harm than good, and that SA Kryze would slaughter him in cross-examination. Damask Holdings’ legal branch often had to defend and obfuscate criminal behavior, but this was by far the worst Adith had seen.

_I need a new job_. She thought, as the Sector Attorney stood up to make her closing arguments.

She watched, frustrated as ever, as SA Kryze built a blasterproof case against her client. Mandalorian juries were predisposed to dislike offworlders, anyway, and hers did not have much of a defense.

Their deliberations were short, and Prisoner 6024 “Sheev Palpatine, of the Republic”, was found guilty of all charges. Sentencing would start in the morning.

_I_ definitely _need a new job._  
____________________________________________

At the end of the day, the Journeyman Protectors of Concord Dawn Station gathered at the local watering hole. Plus a few strays.

“To justice!” Cort toasted, clinking bottles with Bacara. At the bar, Bo Katan and her sister were laughing over something, stealing snacks from each others’ plates. The sergeant knew that Kryze the elder didn’t visit the planet more than a few times a rotation, if there wasn’t a case involved.

The tables were filled with other officers and detectives - this was The Cop Bar in town, and everyone knew it. In the corner booth, Jango was looking awed as the Jedi matched him shot for shot of potent netra’gal. There was a little tower of shot glasses between them. A drunk patron bumped the table, making the glasses wobble precariously...before Kenobi glared at the tower and it stabilized.

Cort sent his kid off to ~~play with~~ _socialize_ with the verd’e his own age, stumbling a little from intoxication. The boss walked in, gesturing at the bartender, who tossed him a bottle without a word. He took his helmet off and opened the bottle on the edge of the bar. “Everything good here, Davin?”

The Sergeant surveyed the room. “Elek, ‘alor. It's all good.”

OUTTAKE  
Another day, another stakeout. They had the top on their slick black speeder, because it was absolutely pissing down rain. They were in a dark alley, watching the back door to the nightclub I hoped that their suspect would come out.

Bo held out the bag of nerf jerky, and her partner accepted a piece with a grateful smile.

"Stars, this is a pain. Why couldn't this _shabuir_ leave some kind of convenient trace evidence, so we could serve the warrant during the day?"

Bacara laughed. "Too convenient. Same reason they always keep their buckets on while doing crime. _Oh no, your honor, that's not my armor _", He mimicked.

"So damn rude, these criminal types. Making life hard. So we catch him coming out of here, where he's likely been doing spice. Bring him in for that, match the armor for the vids, then he's on the hook for the trafficking ring.". She stretched her arms out, fingers interlaced, cracking her back.

"Solid plan. If only the boss's plans didn't have so much waiting."

Bacara shrugged. "You know what he always says, a verd'e must have the patience to see the prey..."

She finished with him. "...and the drive to catch it."

She chuckled a little to herself, looking down at the helmet in her lap. "Did I ever tell you about the first time I met the boss?"

When Bacara shook his head, she smiled and said, "When the boss was still Mand'alor..."

> ...and I was just a little ad'ika, maybe five years old. You know my dad is Duke, right? Well, we were at the confirmation dinner for his first term. My vod and I were all dolled up in formal wear, and buir had polished his vambraces, though he doesn't really wear the full set day-to-day. We're stuck in this interminable line greeting what felt like a thousand clan heads and diplomats who wanted buir's attention. We finally got seated at the high table. My sister is next to me, and on her other side is the Mand'alor. Now, she is still very much Reform Party, pacifism and no armor and all, but chilled out a lot in law school. As an ad, though, she would express these opinions to _anyone_ who would listen, heedless of the reception. So I'm sitting at my first formal banquet, raised on the storybooks of _The Challenge of the Heart_ and _The Mand'alor and the Strill_.
> 
> My sister is explaining nonviolent resolution principles to our war leader, and I get this brilliant idea.

Bacara gasped. "You _didn't_ "

"Oh, but I did.” Her toothy smile gleamed in the moonlight.

> I stood up on my chair, grabbed the dull butter knife, and said, “Mand'alor, I challenge you for honor and Manda'yaim." The threat likely would have been taken more seriously had it not been delivered by a little 'ad in braids and ruffles and a squeaky voice, but I was undeterred. He was clearly trying not to laugh, but stood to his feet, backed away from his chair, and did that little beckoning thing he does, you know, with the eyebrow.
> 
> I _threw_ myself at him, probably bruised his sternum with the butter knife. As I’m, like, sliding down his torso like a rabid feline, I kick him in the ‘nads - guess he was used to having a codpiece, because he was _shocked_. I stomp on his toe - dress boots aren’t great protection. He bends down, I headbutt him. For a hot second, I think I’m winning. But he totally ignores the keldabe kiss and just picks me up around the waist like I weighed nothing at all, holding me at arm’s length.
> 
> I pummel his arms, kick my feet out, bend down and try to bite him, but no dice. He just...holds me there, kicking and shouting, while he calmly resumes his conversation about pacifism with my big sister, who is giving us this look, like, _you are proving my point here, child._. It was _great_.

Bacara took a sip of shig. “So...what happened? Did you get in trouble?”

She laughed. “No, he just held me up there ‘till I wore myself out, and just passed out in mid-air like ad’ika do. We have holos of me sleeping on his shoulder for the rest of the night. Like, now, I think it’s cute. At the time, I was _so_ embarrassed.”

Her partner pointed to someone leaving the club, and they watched for a minute - it was the wrong person.

Bo Katan adjusted the fan. “He must have convinced my buir not to mention it, because I never got in trouble. But the next year, I came prepared. I had a knife, and _very_ heavy boots on under my fancy dress. It became our little tradition, until he retired. When I was looking at secondary schools, the chief showed up to recruit me for the Protectors academy, himself.”

She looked over at Bacara, a wistful smile on her face. “How about you, Bacara? How’d you meet the boss?”

Bacara looked at her. “You don’t want to know,” He said, voice as cold and stark as space.

She raised an eyebrow, unafraid. “Come _on_ , I just shared embarrassing childhood blackmail. Give me _something_.”

He looked her dead in the eye. “It’s classified.” Then he turned back towards the club, rolling his shoulders back. “Besides, everyone at the station already knows my embarrassing stories. Your blackmail won’t do you any good.”

“And why is that, Officer Classified?”

“‘Cause Sarge is my _buir_.”

“Ohhhhhh. So this is why your reviews are all done by Mx. Glesoison, instead of the regular Protectors?”

“Because I was basically raised at the station? Yeah. We try to keep it professional. And my other buir makes us avoid the work talk at home, so it’s usually okay.”

_this part was an outtake because the pacing and tone were completely different, and there's really no plot relevance. but I couldn't resist including Bo-Katan's little backstory._

**Author's Note:**

>  **Warnings:** Canon-typical violence and implied violence, law & order typical law & order, legal procedures made up whole cloth because canon precedent is a violation of both ethics and logic, salty language, use of mando’a, [spoiler] character being his canon self and offensive to everyone. If there is something I should have warned for, but didn't, please let me know! I would be happy to add a tag or text warning.
> 
> Yes, this is softer than canon, because trying to make a functional legal system that resembled Law & Order in SW was making me pull my hair out.  
> The tiny devaronian teenager who likes plants is fostered by Buȉre Fett. She digs it.  
> Jaster Mereel isn’t Mand’alor right now. He retired. He’s chief JP for all of Concord Dawn, he is Very Busy and does not want to deal with politicians anymore. Politicians are exhausting. He’s not Jango’s dad in this, instead like...ba’vodu. It’s all good.  
> Jango Fett is _also_ not Mand’alor, because he's like 26. Right now, he’s happy being an investigator. He particularly likes the “hunting” part, and not the “traffic citations” part.  
> Bo Katan Kryze isn’t the Mand’alor because she’s Baby _and_ Rookie, but has her eyes on the prize. She knows it will have to be after her dad is out of office to avoid the look of corruption. And also because it’s hard to be a warleader when the civil leader changed your diapers.  
> The poor defense lawyer tenders her resignation via holocoll, hires a moving company to clear out her apartment, and walks into the SA’s office to apply for a job as a public defender. She enjoys defending the teenagers for stupid stunts far more than she ever did the sleemos at the Banking Clan. I’m sure her coworkers will eventually convince her to take some self-defense classes. Maybe try some armor. Here, have you learned Mando’a yet? It will help your career. #GoodNeimoidians2020 #IntegrationViaAwesomeness  
> Alternate title was “Apprentice Sidious and his Very Bad Week”. While we see Palpatine in the OT and PT, he’s terribly cunning and competent and plans very far ahead. In many wonderful fanfics he’s depicted the same way - prescient with plans within plans. But no one is born a mastermind. So in this AU, I wanted to play with the concept of him making some silly mistake as a younger man, trying to get out of his problem in a sithly way. Which escalated as Sith things tend to do, when you solve all your problems with murder. Plaguesis, by this point, has written him off as a lost cause and started apprentice shopping. Hey, I warned you it was crack.  
> I wrote Palpatine as sexist and speciesist because he’s shown to be, especially in EU books about the Empire. He probably got better at disguising these attitudes as a Senator, then ran out of f*cks to give as Emperor.  
> I think that Mandalorians would be vaguely confused by sexism. Like. They all wear armor. Their language is gender neutral. It’s a non-issue. ♥


End file.
